met a pretty girl in dc
by vapanalley
Summary: The morning was bright, birds were singing, and Edith's life was ruined the moment her high school guidance counselor sat her down and asked her "What do you want to be when you grow up?". /Read Warnings/


**Warnings:** Mentions of drug use and porn, questionable morals, general villainy

* * *

**met a pretty girl from d.c. **

Edith tried out the whole superhero gig and it didn't really sit quite right with her.

Ever since Agnes was old enough to understand the concept of good and "evil" she had laughed it up and then decided to defy _all_ of that and become a "free radical". She jumps around this universe, sometimes other ones too, and makes things happen for better or worse. She's free to do what she wants, and Edith tried that career on for size once but it didn't fit quite right either.

The morning was bright, birds were singing, and Edith's life was ruined the moment her high school guidance counselor sat her down and asked her "What do you want to be when you grow up?".

Edith didn't know then and she sure as hell doesn't know now. Saying her indecision, her ignorance, her inability to decide on a potential career path ruined her life is actually an understatement. She's still living at home with Dad like a loser even though her sisters have long since moved out and become successful adults.

Margo is even married and Violet is just about the sweetest girl on Planet Earth, so Edith can't help but be happy for them.

Agnes is somewhere in another universe being an undiplomatic diplomat from Earth, and she's probably having fun and being herself and charming the pants off of princes or the equivalents of on whatever planet's surface she is currently gallivanting across.

And Edith? Edith is living at home eating Rocky Road straight out of the carton and sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the floor of her room while surfing the Internet for smutty videos on her dinky 2000's Windows computer with all the lights in her room at half power. Later she might distractedly roll a joint and smoke it as quickly as she can in the bathroom. She doesn't like the flavor or the act; she just likes how when she's high, time goes by faster and she can just collapse in her bedroom and pretend that she can see unicorn shapes in the canopy of her bed with the judgment centers of her brain impaired.

Yeah, she could be knocking back some Xanex and it would probably do similar things, but she figures that weed is at least partially natural, so somewhat better. And she puts the cap at two joints per month. Wimpy? Sure. Is she at least trying to prevent herself from an addiction that could potentially land her in rehab and make her look even more pathetic in comparison to all the great things her family has-is-will done-doing-preparing to accomplish?

That point is up for debate.

"Edith!"

Scrambling to close the browser she just opened, Edith nearly smashes her computer to bits on the head of Mr. Cuddles, Agnes' metal replica of Napolean Bonaparte's horse when she grabs the laptop and tries to close the lid while picking up her carton of ice cream and pulling up her beanie all at once.

"Someone's here to see you." Dad says on the other side of the door.

"Yeah. Okay." Edith calls out and tries to juggle spoon, ice cream, and computer as she heads for the door, walking on tip toes to avoid tripping on something unseen in the dim light. Ice cream goes into the mini fridge, laptop and spoon on Agnes' unused bed.

In the soft yellow light of the hallway, Edith looks down at Margo's old University of Washington sweatshirt covered in unidentifiable stains and the formerly-fuzzy-but-now-just-scraggly pair of pajama bottoms she's sporting. Her puke green sparkling toenails peak out from underneath the frayed hems of her pants. She wiggles her toes and admires the way the light catches on the polish. Good enough to greet house guests with.

Been living at home for five years now. Whoever is asking to see her is just lucky she's not walking around in the nude at this point.

"Hey."

A towheaded man is sitting on Dad's couch smiling winningly at Edith. He's wearing glasses with thick frames and dressed in business casual: button up shirt, cable-knit vest, khakis, and wing tips.

"Aren't you taking this Clark Kent impersonation business a bit far?" Edith says.

Dash shrugs, his smile as steady as ever.

"Still as witty as ever."

"Thanks. But coming from you that hardly even warrants as a compliment."

"Ouch. But look, I have a proposal to make." Dash says. He looks attractive and at ease even though he's sitting on red leather stitched from reengineered dinosaur hide in the lair of a mad scientist. Margo would say something like "That's a reporter for you.", but Edith thinks that's just Dash, always on, always ready to give a good show.

"No. Our two families are too different. It's forbidden."

"See? You're doing great. But you haven't even heard what I have to say yet."

Edith just shakes her head and stands in the doorway of her own living room, unwilling to venture closer lest the powerful magnetic pull that is Dash Parr draw her closer than she actually wants to be. Too close and she might never leave. From the corner of her eye, Edith watches as her dad edges into the kitchen with steps as soft as a kitten's.

"Okay. Shoot. What do you want."

"I'm looking for an arch nemesis, arch foe, a super villain if you will."

"You're looking for the wrong Gru."

Watching Dash laugh is a little like watching a puppy do a dance across a pile of cushions. It is adorable. It is really appealing. And it makes you wonder what kind of cruel god would create such an act, if not to entice the masses to become piles of cooing goo. It's not an unkind laugh, not forced, but the kind that encourages others to join in. Dash has a laugh that literally makes people want to laugh with him. That and when he laughs his blue eyes scrunch up like little crescents of happiness and that's just cute. End of discussion.

"You're good."

"Oh, stop it. You flatter me," Edith says in a deadpan voice. "I need to consider this offer. Are you sure I'm actually qualified or are you just doing this because my sister asked your sister to do this for me to drag me out of my existential funk."

"A guy can't ask a pretty lady to want to annihilate him on a bi-weekly basis just because?"

"Bi-weekly? Whatever happened to daily doses of great fear and pain of death?"

"You'll want to be destroying the world, taking over the country, killing politicians, etc. in all the time you're not using to try and harm me." Dash says, counting off acts of terror on his fingers much to Edith's amusement.

"Right. Well, I have to think about it. This is a pretty big offer you're making here."

"And for the record, Violet wouldn't want to put me in danger so I think that I would almost be going exactly the opposite of what my sister would want for me. She's pretty happy my city doesn't have a mad scientist or anything, but, you know, I thought I'd ask around before I gave up any chance of having a steady relationship built on hate and intense emotional issues."

"Really putting your happiness on the line there, buddy." Edith says.

"It's for the greater good."

"Right."

Edith stops fiddling with the stretched out elastics of her sweatshirt and takes a moment to examine her options. Live at home for another five years or become a super villainess and get to work with Dash, who is funny and kind and a little masochistic. Smoke the second joint she's going to allow herself this month or start devising a doomsday machine that would make Dad proud.

Eat more Rocky Road or actually hit the gym and pick up bartitsu again, she's been missing her trusty umbrella of death lately, but hasn't really had the heart to pick it up again for fear of being bad at it. Well. She's definitely bad at it now, but now she has a goal to work towards.

"I'll do it."

"Great. Hit up my city any time." Dash says. He looks puppy dog eager, so Edith takes careful steps to cross the room and shakes his unnaturally warm hand. Speedsters always run a little warm.

"Should we feed you before you go?" Edith asks, just to be polite.

"Nah. What if you poison me?"

Edith just smiles to herself and watches Dash walk into the kitchen and say goodbye to Dad before leaving through the front door for the last time ever. Other people her age are preparing for graduate school. Edith is preparing to become a super villainess and she's looking forward to it so, so much.

* * *

**A/N:** Agnes is my favorite, but I felt like Edith's love for destruction and death and general mayhem made her a good candidate to be a villain. Totes excited for Despicable Me 2.


End file.
